


Infiltration

by RedTeamShark



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Comfort Sex, Consensual Sex, Excerpt of a larger story, Eye Contact, Grinding, M/M, Safe Gun Procedures, Sparring, Superpowers AU, blowjob, gun use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-09 04:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: Locus helps Wash forget.





	1. Infiltration

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a larger story that may or may not be posted here (it definitely needs some editing). Locington, consensual but Wash has a relationship with Felix that's less consensual. That part is really only in the background of the second chapter though. Anyways it's sort of like X-Men and Wash doesn't know how to shoot a gun for reasons.

The solid _smack_ of his knuckles against the bag was almost a soothing sound. Each impact was chorused with his heavy breathing, deep but even. Controlled.

Control.

He was in control.

Wash punched the hanging bag again, his focus narrowed down to two points: his cloth-wrapped knuckles and the rough canvas they continued to impact against. Somewhere in the back of his mind, memory was playing an identical scene to the present. Any minute now Maine would walk in and correct his form, growling and intimidating but surprisingly gentle with physical contact. Any minute now…

“No.” Wash panted out the word as his fist connected with the bag again, shaking his head. That was the past. The lack of pain in his hands despite the amount of time he’d been down here practicing was evidence enough of that. Maine had taught him how to punch effectively, how to kick, how to down men three times his size with techniques that turned their own muscles against them. Maine had taught him how to grapple, incapacitate, subdue.

Maine had taught him how to survive in the worst case scenario.

Wash paused in his volley of punches as he heard the door behind him open, reaching to the side for his water bottle. He could feel the tension he’d been punching away crawling back into his spine, settling in again. While he had a pretty solid read on everyone in Felix’s small group, there were a couple of people he just couldn’t wrap his head around.

Most concerning of these enigmas was Locus, the man who could turn invisible at will, seemingly Felix’s second-in-command… or was Felix second to him? It was almost impossible to tell. Neither of them acted as if the other had any sort of control, any sort of power.

And then there was the conversation the other day, Locus’ statement (it wasn’t something as mincing as a request, wasn’t even close) that he was going to start fucking Wash as well.

The bleach blond eyed the other man as he approached, tracking him with his gaze as Locus continued past him. The tall, dark-skinned man passed through the room silently, even his footsteps not making a sound. He paused at the door that led into the next room, looking over his shoulder.

“Tell me, Wash, do you know how to shoot a gun?”

Mutely, Wash nodded. He’d been trained with a handgun and could–in theory, anyways–fire it if he needed to. Most of the time he could even hit one of the marked vital areas on the target at the range back home. Locus looked him up and down, seemed to make a mental assessment, before gesturing with his head towards the door.

“Show me.”

He wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t going to ignore a comment that was obviously an order. Wash unwrapped the cloth bracers from his hands as he crossed the room, left them by the door that Locus held open for him and entered the firing range. His eyes traced over the guns on the wall, selecting a medium-sized handgun and checking it over, prudently keeping the muzzle pointed towards the floor. He could feel dark eyes on him as he worked with the weapon, tried to ignore them as he stepped up to the small firing booth. There was ammunition behind him and, resisting the urge to check the gun again, he selected a clip.

“That’s wrong.” Locus’ voice cut into the silence around them, startlingly close. Wash fumbled with the clip, nearly dropped it. A hand, large and rough, closed over his before the item could fall, fingers guiding him to return it and select the proper one. “You’re sure you know how to shoot?”

“I’ve… practiced before. A while ago.” Wash admitted, swallowing thickly. He crossed the room, loaded the gun (without fumbling, send up a mental cheer for that) and pulled a pair of earmuffs from the wall.

“You may begin firing when the green light at the end of the range is on. You must cease when it turns off.” Locus instructed, his voice further away this time. Wash nodded, settled the earmuffs on his ears, looked down range at the target. It was further away than he was used to, smaller and simply a bullseye, not the human-shaped cut-out with indicators of vital regions. Wash swallowed down his nervousness, lifting the handgun as the green light flashed on just past his target.

He settled into a stance, tried to remember everything Carolina and York had taught him about shooting. Exhale just before firing, right? Close one eye, or was that York fucking with him? He was pretty sure he needed depth perception to be a good shot. Damn, he should have had North give him a refresher course before leaving…

Wash pulled the trigger and the gun kicked in his hands, sending him back a step. He winced as the recoil shook through his arms and shoulders, stepped forward again, pulled the trigger a second time. This time he was ready for the kick, wasn’t sent stumbling backwards by it. Licking his lips, he pulled the trigger a third time. Now that he knew what the gun felt like to fire in his hands, he should probably focus on hitting the target instead of the wall behind it.

The green light shut off after his fourth shot and Wash carefully set the gun down in front of him, pulling his earmuffs off and resisting the urge to rub his aching shoulders. He wasn’t able to fight down the startled jump as a warm body suddenly entered his personal space, breath quickening when arms wrapped around him.

“Your form is completely wrong. If you’d picked something even a little bigger you would have probably dislocated your shoulder.” Locus’ voice was low in his ear, too close and too warm, his words lost under the sudden panic Wash was fighting to control. Hands closed over his, lifting his arms and miming holding a gun. “When you stand like this, everything goes to your arms. The rest of your body isn’t in the equation and you can’t fire repeatedly. Stand like this.” The hands on him moved his arms slightly, a foot nudging his, widening his stance. Wash felt a shiver run up his spine as hips pressed into his, biting down on his lip.

One of Locus’ hands left his arm, dropping down to his hip and pulling him back slightly. “Straighten your back and neck. Your target is in front of you, not on the ground. That’s better.” Wash exhaled slowly, felt himself settle into the stance he’d been placed in. It did feel more comfortable than how he’d been standing before, even if having Locus pressed that close to him was making his heart pound.

“Pick up your gun, Wash.” He lifted the handgun numbly, let his hands and fingers be manipulated on the grip. Let the gun be lifted more under Locus’ power than his own, looked down the barrel to the target. “Obviously, this time the green light isn’t on. But we’re the only ones here and the only entrance is behind us, so fire.”

“The ear–”

“It’s not that loud. Fire.”

Wash squeezed the trigger, the kick as the bullet was fired once more surprising him, sending him back slightly into Locus’ chest. It didn’t send a vibrating ache up his arms, however, didn’t leave him having to correct his form.

“Good. Again.” Locus’ hands left his, dropped to rest on his hips and he hoped he was imagining the press of something hard against his ass, hoped he was–

The second shot hit the target and Wash forgot about Locus temporarily, narrowed his focus down to where the end of the gun was going to send the next bullet. He squeezed the trigger, watched a hole appear midway between the edge of the paper target and the center in the blink of an eye. Minutely adjusted his aim and squeezed again. Another hole appeared opposite the last one and he cursed under his breath, adjusted his aim back just a hair.

“Don’t dry-fire that gun.” Locus commanded in his ear just before Wash pulled the trigger again. He shifted slightly, put the gun down and chanced a glance over his shoulder.

The man behind him wasn’t smiling, but he still somehow seemed pleased. His fingers traced up Wash’s bare sides, head dipping down and lips pressing quickly to his shoulder. The actions weren’t aggressive, didn’t seem likely to turn painful or forceful. Locus pulled away after a moment, seemed to pull all the warmth out of Wash as he left. “You’ll improve.” He noted, once more gesturing for the door. “Back to what you were doing. I’m not quite done in here.”

He was still punching the hanging bag when Locus left the firing range some minutes later, each pound of his fist against the canvas echoed by a heavily muffled gunshot from the next room. Wash wiped down with a towel, fighting his nervousness as Locus crossed the room. “Hey, uh, Locus.”

The other man paused, lifting an eyebrow towards him. “Yes?”

“Do you… know how to spar? Like, hand to hand combat stuff?”

The eyebrow lowered, creasing together. “Of course.”

“Do you want to maybe, you know, practice with me?” He hadn’t had practice with another person in a while, and most of those that he _had_ practiced with, he knew well enough for the matches to be more mental than physical. Locus, however, was completely new to him. If he wanted to spar, it’d be an interesting new challenge for Wash to try to take him down.

The other man seemed to be considering it, his lips pursed in thought. He looked around the room briefly before returning his gaze to Wash, nodding once. “Okay.”

Together they entered the ring on the far side of the room, both stretching out, eyeing each other carefully. Wash brushed a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead as Locus stretched his arms.

“First to three pins?” The blond offered, watching as Locus dropped into a stance–low and wide, his hands hanging loose at his sides. Wash settled into his own posture, legs braced, ready to jump out of the way. Judging by his stance, Locus was going to go for a full-bodied tackle.

“First to three.” The other man agreed, shifting minutely. “Begin?”

“Begin.”

As he predicted, Locus launched towards him immediately. Wash leapt out of the way, turned on his heel as Locus’ momentum carried him further. He stuck his foot out, tripped the larger man and sent him sprawling on the mat. In a moment Wash was on him, settled low on his back and grabbing for his arm. Locus rolled him off before he could get a solid grip and Wash continued the roll, sprung to his feet at the opposite end of the small arena.

Heavy silence hung between them as they circled each other. Wash could see Locus’ stance change, his strategy shifting as he moved. He changed his own stance, prepared to counter the oncoming attack.

Locus kicked high and Wash blocked the blow, eyes widening slightly when the other man moved forward with hardly a hesitation. He crouched low at the last moment, wrapped his arms firmly around Locus’ waist and then pushed upwards, sending the larger man sailing over his shoulder. Wash spun around as he heard Locus land, dropped himself onto him more quickly. He socked a knee into the base of Locus’ spine and gripped his arm, bending it behind his back.

The larger man tapped the mat twice and Wash let up, holding out his hand to haul him to his feet. He started to grin, the look falling off his face immediately. Locus was looking at him with murder in his eyes. “I gave you one. You won’t get a second.” He whispered, moving across the ring and falling into position again.

“We’ll see what happens.” Wash argued, eyes tracing over every line of tensed muscle in Locus’ arms. He could feel a similar gaze on him, fought down the urge to posture. It wouldn’t do him any good.

The next two rounds drew out longer, both men breathing heavily as Locus pinned Wash down to the mat and held him for two consecutive turns. Wash grit his teeth together as he was pulled to his feet, determined not to let Locus get in a third pin without a serious fight. Granted, he hadn’t been taking things lightly since the end of the first round, but there was no way he was letting himself be beaten 3-1.

Their fourth match went quickly, Locus making a critical mistake in his first steps. Wash had him on the ground in no time, held him down there until Locus tapped out. He let up gradually, a slight frown on his lips. “You move your upper body too far away from your legs. Unbalanced.”

“When I want tips from you, I’ll tell you.” Locus returned, swatting his hand away and crossing the mat. “The next pin decides the victor.”

“And maybe you’ll decide I know what I’m talking about when I win.”

“If you win.”

“Just get ready.”

Their final round dragged out, both competitors breathing heavily, moving slower. The fight was less physical, more mental, testing movements but not completing them, watching reactions. So far, Wash had only fought defensively, had used Locus’ offensive movements against him with varying levels of success. He continued to work that way, eyes scanning for an opening.

It came when Locus abruptly dropped low, swung a leg and knocked Wash’s feet out from under him. The smaller man hit the mat and felt weight on top of him immediately, bit down the grin. He knew this position well, knew exactly what was going to happen and what to do. Wash arched his back as Locus settled on top of him for the pin, freed his arms from behind him and swung one around Locus’ neck. He hooked a leg around the other man’s thigh, pulled him in as close as a lover and rolled at the same time. Wash’s hips settled squarely against Locus’ as he pressed him down to the mat, breathing heavily and watching him.

“That’s three for me.” Wash whispered, feeling Locus strain and struggle under him. “Tap out, Locus, you’re pinned.”

For a moment Locus looked at him with fire in his eyes, seemed determined to continue struggling futilely against the hold. Finally, however, he relaxed, tapped the mat twice. Wash eased off, prepared to climb off him when hands gripped his hips and held him in place. A warm palm ran down his thigh when he didn’t try to move away, sliding back up to brush over the front of his pants. “Quite an interesting position you’ve chosen, Wash.”

Wash nearly bit his tongue in half as long fingers cupped him through his pants, hips rocking forward into the touch. He whined low in his throat as the fingers left him, eyes squeezing shut and hands bracing on Locus’ chest. Warm digits slid across his lower stomach, slipped into his pants and pushed them down slightly. A gasp left his lips when those same warm fingers wrapped around him and began to stroke, his hands curling into fists against Locus’ broad chest.

There was none of the rough treatment that Felix gave him; no scratching, no bruising, no biting. None of the harsh words that started up if he showed any sort of enjoyment. The only sounds in the room were the noises Wash was making, their volume steadily increasing as Locus worked him. He moved onto his knees, let his pants be pushed further down, groaned and shivered as Locus’ fingers trailed up his torso and slipped between his lips.

“Suck.” The deep voice of the man below him commanded and Wash hurried to comply, sucking the digits in his mouth, running his tongue over them. He could feel Locus’ own hardness pressed against him, though the man seemed to be paying it no personal attention. The hand not occupied with Wash’s mouth brushed over his skin, smoothing over muscles and occasionally wrapping around his aching cock again, stroking just enough to keep him on the edge.

He leaned forward as Locus withdrew his fingers, following them, whining softly when they moved out of reach. “Please.” Wash whispered, letting himself be guided down, face pressing into the side of Locus’ neck. He should have been humiliated by the position, legs spread to either side of Locus’ hips, ass in the air. Should have had a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks, a whine of displeasure in his throat. The only thing he felt was desire, a need to have Locus finish what he started.

Embarrassing position or not, Wash just wanted to get fucked.

He felt more than heard the hum of thought Locus gave, whined again despite himself and wiggled his hips. “Please.” He whispered again, shivering as a moistened fingertip pressed against him, slid inside.

“Insufficient lubricant. Unfortunate.” Locus spoke more to himself, his finger still pressing inside. Had Wash been capable of words that weren’t pleading, he would have told Locus that he didn’t fucking care, he just needed the other man to finish what he’d started. He tried to convey the sentiment physically, moving his hips back onto Locus’ finger and clenching his fists against his chest. The message got across, fortunately, the digit inside him pressing deeper, pulling out and pushing in again with almost agonizing slowness.

Locus’ finger was long and narrow, his movements precise. Wash cried out and jerked his hips as his prostate was brushed, fighting for the coherency to ask for more. Before his brain could find the words, a second finger was pressing into him, the two digits curling inside him. He nearly screamed as they pressed to his prostate and began to rub, the sensation of Locus’ palm closing around his cock and stroking only adding to the dizzying pleasure.

“Enjoy yourself.” The other man nearly growled in his ear and Wash felt whatever frayed remnants of self-control he was pretending to have snap. He rolled his hips into the dual stimulation, throat unlocking to release a moan, high-pitched and needy. Locus worked him with the same control that he’d had when teaching him how to shoot, the same meticulous precision he’d shown in the arena during their fight. It wasn’t just overwhelming, it was nearly mind-blowing, and Wash could only voice a choked half-sob of pleasure as warning before he lost himself to the sensations.

Locus waited for him to recover slightly before sitting up, slowly altering their position to pin Wash to the mat below him. He licked his own fingers, cleaning them of Wash’s cum and staring down at him as the blond fought to get his breathing under control again.

“I suppose I could fuck you right here and now…” Locus mused, brushing the back of his hand against Wash’s cheek. “I think you’d even enjoy it.”

“Please… oh, fuck, _please_ …”

The man above him shook his head, however, pressed closer and whispered in his ear. “Tonight, in my bed. This time I want to see your face while you enjoy what I do to you.”

Wash nodded mutely, staying down on the mat as Locus got to his feet and left the training room. He sighed as the door shut, eyes on the ceiling. “Jesus Christ.”


	2. Eyes On Me

“Just keep your eyes on me.” Locus whispered, warm hands trailing down Wash’s torso. “It’ll remind you that I’m not him.”

He would have protested, for the sake of his cover if nothing else, but the words sent something through him, something that burned and made him shiver, something that made him arch his back and keep his eyes open. “Okay…”

“You still want this?” The hands slid under his shirt, began to push the fabric up slowly.

“Y-yeah. I want this.” Wash licked his lips, sat up enough to allow his shirt to be pushed all the way off. When lips pressed to his neck, kissing instead of biting, he kept his eyes open. When nails scraped down his chest without breaking the skin, he watched the warm dark hands against his freckled skin. “Fuck.” He panted out, lifting his hips into Locus’. “I want this a lot.”

The hum against his skin sounded approving, strong hips grinding down into his, rolling slowly. Locus didn’t pin him, didn’t demand things from him that he was unsure about giving. He didn’t _hurt_ , that was the important part. Earlier in the training room he hadn’t hurt and now in the bedroom he didn’t hurt. It was good, it made his eyes want to roll back into his head, his hands scramble for something to hold onto. Wash’s blunt nails scraped against Locus’ muscled back, fingers finally closing around the other man’s biceps.

“You’re Locus.” He breathed out, making eye contact again as Locus moved over him, as Locus kissed him.

“What do you want to do, David?” He questioned, brushing a hand against the front of Wash’s pants.

The thought that he could choose, that his opinion _mattered_ … It was almost pathetic how much that made his heart pound, his blood rush. Wash squirmed slightly against the hand that had settled between his legs, biting down on his lip. “I want to…” He swallowed, looked away and looked back quickly. “I want to do something for you that–that I don’t do for him.” Just thinking about Felix made his stomach roll with nerves, but if he kept looking at Locus, he thought he’d be okay.

“Alright.” The larger man agreed, his hand not still working slowly against Wash’s growing erection reaching, finding his fingers and squeezing. “Then do it.”

Keeping his eyes on Locus, keeping his breathing steady, forcing his hands not to shake, Wash began to sit up. He planted his hands on Locus’ bare chest, pushed him back until their positions had switched. He worked his lips against the other man’s collarbones, watched the way his muscles tensed under the skin as he moved. Kept breathing, kept reminding himself that it was okay to be doing this. That nothing bad would happen. “Nothing bad…” Wash breathed against Locus’ chest, hearing and feeling the hum of agreement, the hand that slid into his hair and stroked, tugged without intent to harm. His fingers slid down in advance of his lips, slid into Locus’ pants and skimmed against his hip bones.

He pushed the other man to lie down as he undid the button and zipper, tugged the loose denim down and away. Wash momentarily pressed his forehead to Locus’ stomach, running a hand lightly along his hardening cock. “I haven’t…” He licked his lips, keeping his eyes on the expanse of muscular skin below him. “I haven’t done this in a while… might not be very good…”

Locus’ fingers slid along his jaw, carefully tilted his chin up until they were looking each other in the eye again. “You’ll be fine.” He assured, running his hand along Wash’s jaw. “Go at your own pace.”

“Right…” Wash licked his lips again, tilting his head down and pressing a light kiss to the head of Locus’ cock. He could do this, he knew damn well he could do this… he just had to keep eyes on Locus. He’d be fine if he could do that.

His fingers wrapped around the other man’s length, trembling slightly as his lips parted. The warm fingers slid away from him, Locus’ hands instead gripping the sheets, and Wash exhaled slowly, keeping his gaze focused on the other man’s face as he closed his lips around the head of his cock and sucked lightly. His hand stroked up and down, tongue brushing against Locus’ slit, tasting. Slowly he moved lower, eyes rolling upward to stay on Locus’ face.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Locus’ hand moving across the bed, flinched involuntarily and pulled back. “Sorry, I–”

“You’re fine.” Locus’ fingers closed on a pillow, dragging it over and propping it behind his head. “More than fine. Keep going, if you want to, David.”

“Okay… yeah, okay…” He tilted his head down again, lips once more closing over Locus’ cock, beginning to take him in. Wash’s eyes squeezed shut and he swallowed as the length in his mouth brushed the back of his throat, forcing himself to relax, not to panic, to remember who he was with. He eased back slowly, opened his eyes again and glanced upward as his tongue stroked slowly around what was still in his mouth, teasing the underside and feeling for sensitive spots.

He went down again, moving his hand aside and gripping Locus’ hip instead as he swallowed once more. This time his eyes stayed open, stayed locked on the expanse of torso below him. It was okay as long as he kept his eyes on Locus, just like he’d been told. Wash swallowed again as his nose pressed into wiry pubic hair, moaning before pulling back. He heard a soft groan from Locus, felt fingertips skim over his scalp. They didn’t grasp, didn’t press down, and he bobbed his head slowly.

“Fuck.” Locus hissed above him and Wash glanced up quickly as he moved down, eyes locking with the other man’s steady gaze. “Fuck, David.” He repeated, hips tilting up slightly. Wash didn’t need more words than that, didn’t need to second guess himself. He could do this, he knew he could, and Locus would let him do it his way.

His pace picked up with the knowledge, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing as he sucked and swallowed. His hand wrapped around Locus’ cock again, squeezing gently when he pulled back to focus on the head, moving aside when he moved down and swallowed the other man’s entire erection. He could feel Locus twitching under him, could taste the flow of pre-cum from him. The larger man groaned again and Wash glanced up, gazes locked as he slowly pulled back, inhaling as he went to increase the suction of his lips against Locus’ cock. He pulled off completely, stroking and flicking his tongue against the tip again. “I want you to… i-if you want to–”

“Where?”

“In my mouth.” He rushed the words out, tipping his head down again and swallowing around Locus’ length, barely aware of the noise of agreement from above him. His hand moved quickly, lips working as Locus’ fingers once more threaded into his hair, gently guided his bobbing head. He heard the groan, the sharp gasp and the muttered warning just before the warmth of Locus’ orgasm flooded his mouth. Wash swallowed, moving as he was gently tugged upwards, feeling some of the other man’s cum leak from his lips and begin to slide down his chin.

Locus kissed him before he could wipe it up, slid his tongue over the dribble of liquid and into Wash’s mouth. He eased into the kiss, pressed himself tight to the broad chest below him and groaned. His eyes stayed open, stayed fixed on Locus’ gaze.

“Fuck.” Wash managed, tilting his head down and breathing heavily when the kiss was broken, one hand pressed to Locus’ shoulder to keep himself steady. “Fuck…” He whispered again, rocking into the hand that slid into his pants, his heavy breathing turning into a whine of pleasure.

“You’re…” Locus squeezed his length, waited until he looked up to kiss him again. “Beyond words.” He finished, hands sliding down, working Wash’s pants off quickly. “Will you let me…?” His fingers hovered over Wash’s hard length, not quite touching the bared skin yet.

“Yes… yes, _please_ …” The blond panted, crying out as a warm hand enveloped him and stroked, squeezed. He was close already, breathing hard, rolling his hips into the touch. His head fell back, eyes drifting shut as Locus kissed along his neck and shoulder. “Oh, fuck, Locus…” Wash barely hissed the words, nails digging into the other man’s shoulder as he came.

Locus’ hands stayed on him, stroking slowly over his skin as Wash fell to lie beside him on the bed. Finally he opened his eyes again, looked over the man next to him and felt a smile curl his lips. “Fuck.”

“Yeah…” The other man agreed, wrapping his arms around him slowly. “You’re okay still?”

Wash swallowed, considered the question. For the first time in probably too long, he felt safe in bed with someone else… didn’t feel used and dirty. He nodded, inching closer. “Yeah. I feel… good.”

Locus’ hand stroked against his cheek, lips pressing there quickly. “I’m glad.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can read all of Infiltration [here](http://redteamshark.tumblr.com/tagged/teen+spartans+go/chrono), if you want, but please be aware of the warnings on it. It's not a very light story.


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